


Fireside

by Jbee



Series: Gates of Askr: Year Two [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jbee/pseuds/Jbee
Summary: The storm has passed, and while the heroes in the castle are safe and sound, Alfonse's mission in Sem has been foiled by the bad weather. His search for the mysterious mystic Mother Ra has hit a dead-end, leaving him with more questions than answers. Now Alfonse and Cherche are faced with the decision to continue to seek out this old woman in the swamps, or return to the capital empty handed.
Series: Gates of Askr: Year Two [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038126





	Fireside

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a collection of short stories driven by the FEH Subreddit Weekly Writing Prompts, Dec. 28th, 2020. "A new year, and a new enemy, draws closer to Askr."

The logs in the flames popped and cracked within the fireplace of Alfonse’s small inn room. The warm smoky scent of burning wood mixed with the earthy aromas of the hearty stew that had been left untouched. Sitting in the chair by the hearth and across from the low table, Alfonse looked down at the linen cloth bandage wrapped tightly around his hand. The result of a fall while he and Cherche were traversing over the ice and snow in the swamp during the recent winter storm. A storm that he was so ill prepared for even after Kiran’s warning. He curled his fingers, and felt the deep gash scream out in pain. He cannot run a kingdom like he ran this mission, or they would surely fall to ruin.

Traveling through southern Askr had been uneventful up until a few days ago when an unexpected blizzard moved in. Short on time, and having risked so much to travel to the small southern inlet of Sem, Alfonse insisted on continuing their search for Mother Rå in the swamps outside the small village, regardless of the bad weather that would hinder their effort. Captain Cherche reluctantly agreed to go along with the young prince. Unable to bring Minerva they tried their best to find a narrow path of solid ground in the wintery swamp. The shallow water became more than just a slipping hazard, soaking through their boots and chilling their feet when accidently breaking through the thin ice. The frozen muck and broken trees formed jagged terrain that would rip and dent their armor if they took a tumble. The last straw came when he took a fall after venturing into a clearing they found within the swamp, the very place where Cherche had claimed the old woman’s hut would be. Alfonse spotted what he thought was remnants of an old structure, and when he tried to move closer to inspect the formation of rocks and planks of wood, he crashed through the ice. He broke his fall on a frozen log, its pointed branch tearing through his leather glove and slicing his hand. This was enough for the headstrong prince to finally listen to the captain, giving up his search for the mystic, and return to the safety of the nearby village.

Alfonse’s thoughts of his lost cause were abruptly interrupted by a loud rapping at his door, followed by a soft kind voice from behind. “Master Virion, your captain is here to speak to you.” It was the kind woman that helped bandage his hand once they returned to the inn. The innkeeper’s wife had waited on him, hand and foot, ever since she found out that he was ‘Lord Virion,’ a wealthy merchant from the capital. Most likely pushed by her husband to garner a handsome tip. If only she knew the truth of Alfonse’s true identity.

“Yes, send her in, thank-you.” Alfonse responded without rising from his chair.

Captain Cherche entered the dark room, closing the door gently, and listening for the steps of the innkeeper’s wife to become distant. Cherche cleared her throat before she began. “The storms have passed. We will leave in the morning to rendezvous with the prince’s caravan on our way to the capital.”

“Very well.” Alfonse was quiet as he continued to stare into the flames, deep in thought. They would finally have their chance with this break in weather, only to have to return home. They could not fail to meet up with Prince Marth at the rendezvous. The further the Altean prince traveled towards the capital the higher the risk of citizens exposing him as the fraud he was. The two princes must switch places, or risk utter chaos within the court, and worse yet, his mother finding out about her son traveling to Sem without permission.

“My lord?” Cherche broke the silence as she continued to stand at attention.

“Mm?” Alfonse rubbed his temple and bit his lip. His mind still leagues away.

Cherche steeled herself, bowing her head slightly. “I wanted to apologize. I could have sworn on Minerva’s life that the hut would have been there.”

The eroded confidence of the strong captain was the push Alfonse needed to pull him out of his dark thoughts. He gave Cherche a gentle smile, and shook his head. “No need to apologize, Cherche, I don’t doubt there was something there at one point.” He knew what he saw, that there was evidence that someone had been living in the open clearing where he took his fall. “You may return to your duties preparing for our journey tomorrow.”

Cherche silently bowed before turning to leave the small room. If her confidence had returned, he could not tell on her cold stone face, and he knew better than to push her to share any of her inner feelings. ‘Let sleeping wyverns lie’, is what Cherche would have advised him if he had asked, and that’s what Alfonse was going to do.

His thoughts returned to the clearing in the swamp after the captain left. Staring into the fire, his mind’s eye assessed the stone structures that were just visible under the snow. Someone had lived there, but not for many years. Could it have even been the mystic he searched for? Alfonse clenched his fist in frustration. The bandage around his hand tightened, and drops of blood soaked through the cloth, falling to the floor while small pools collected around his boot.

“There is no need for a blood sacrifice to summon me, my child.”

Alfonse’s eyes widened and he quickly turned his head. The adrenaline of the surprise caused his limbs to tingle as he rose from his chair, his heart raced in his chest. A small old woman, with long silver curls and bright red eyes watched him from the corner of the room. Behind her the wall was black, a void of nothingness, a doorway to wherever she came from. Alfonse's mouth gaped open, and he quietly whispered her name under his breath. “Mother Rå…”

“Well, will you not offer this old woman a seat by the fire?” The Mother Rå chuckled, only a few creases that told of her old age appeared on her unblemished pale skin. “The weather as of late has been quite dreadful on these old bones!”

“Yes!” Alfonse’s eyes widened again, still in a state of shock and awe. “Yes, of course! Please take this seat. It is not much, but I can get a pillow, or have some warmer blankets brought up to the room.” He began to ramble on, flushing in embarrassment of being so ill prepared for his special guest.

Mother Rå laughed and waved him off with a slender hand, stepping towards the hearth. “Calm child. This will be quite enough, but perhaps some tea?” Her long tattered gown swept the wooden floor as she moved, bits of cloth mixed with odds and ends of twigs and leaves. Her crown of antlers made her taller than she actually was. She sat with an air of dignity and kept a watchful eye on Alfonse as he poured hot tea into an empty cup with a shaky hand. “My, my, to be doted on by the prince of Askr. If only my friends could see me now! What would they say?!” Mother Rå grinned, gracefully taking the cup from Alfonse as he tried desperately to control his nerves in her presence.

“Only good things, I hope.” An awkward smile formed on Alfonse’s lips, and he shyly rubbed his neck. There was something about this old woman that made him feel flustered, like he was a young boy again. He cleared his throat, building his courage up to speak to the mystic. “I searched for you in the swamps.”

“I am aware.” Mother Rå gently blew on the surface of the hot tea.

“You saw us?” His nerves melted away when his mind returned to thoughts of his mission.

“With my eyes, no.” She drank slowly from her cup, her bright red eyes looking up once she finished, a ping of excitement pierced Alfonse when he met them with his own. “However, I felt your great need in my slumber, my child.” Holding the tea cup in her lap, she out stretched her other arm and gestured to him. “Come closer, and allow me to have a good look.” Alfonse wasted no time, relocated the bowl of stew that sat on the low table and took its place across from the old woman. Her surprisingly warm thin fingers, grasped his chin and tilted his head side to side. He continued to stare at her from the corner of his wide blue eyes, spotting a glimpse of a stone on a chain that sparkled from under the layers of scarfs around her neck. “You resemble your father, and his father before him.”

His attention returned to her bright red eyes. “You knew my father?” Alfonse muttered through pinched cheeks.

“From a distance.” Mother Rå let go of the prince’s chin and leaned back in her chair, holding out the tea cup for Alfonse to take away. “Now, tell me. What brings you to my doorstep?”

“I have come to ask you about the realms and their gods.” Alfonse took the cup, and put it aside as he hastily began to explain his mission, urgency in his voice. “In the spring you spoke to Kiran, the summoner of the Order of Heroes –“

“Yes, I recall.” She nodded nonchalantly, rotating her hand as a sign to hurry the conversation along. “There has not been a summoner in Askr for many years. Speaking to one is not an event one soon forgets!”

“You spoke to her about the veil between the realms thinning.” Alfonse leaned in, bracing his elbows on the ends of his knees, keeping his voice low. “I have come to ask if you know more about this event. I fear Zenith is changing quickly, and I want to understand what is happening. Hel and Dökkálfheimr invading. Loki with her tricks. Thorr attacking us over and over again. Why did they come to Askr? I must understand their goals if I ever plan to be a good king, and to protect Askr.”

“You live in trying times, my child.” Mother Rå sighed, the corners of her lips turned downwards. “Each Zenith locked within the same struggle as you. With only one small difference. The summoner that was summoned to their world. The strength of the summoner will determine what worlds will fall away, losing their battles and becoming a memory. Other summoners, such as ours, push on. Growing and striving for a better future. Each one has their own path and outcome. However, the simple truth is your enemies are after power, but more specifically, the power that comes with having a summoner.” She pursed her lips, pausing for a moment, the brightness that was in her eyes began to dull. “Breidablik, that ancient tool they wield to bring heroes to Askr, siphons the magic that flows in the world around us. The seal to the realm of the dead, and the barrier that separates those that were forgotten will weaken and thin. As the magic flows towards Breidablik, so do the creatures that would normally be held back. Breidablik is like a beacon for them.”

Alfonse felt a cold chill ripple through his body. “Then, I am at fault… I had Anna bring the summoner to our world, and she summons the heroes here for me.” He clenched his fists again, the wound burning as he agitated it. “Is it possible to reverse Breidablik’s effect?”

“No. What is done, is done.” Mother Rå informed him grimly. “You can only move forward. The heroes you summon are becoming stronger and stronger. You will need them for the fights before you. To stop would only make you weaker. Your fate would be no different than the worlds that have already fallen.”

Alfonse steeled himself, sitting up. “I need to know who our enemies are. What threatens Askr’s future, so I may prepare for them.”

Mother Rå gave a short laugh, and she shook her head to his disappointment. “I am no fortune teller, boy! Looking for patterns to predict the future is a fool’s game. You know your enemies will come, it is best if you prepare for all situations that might happen. In the meantime, your concerns should be focused on Askr. That is where your main threat grows.”

Alfonse remembered the dragonstone Kiran had found in the swamps of Sem the spring before. A talisman of an old organization thought to have been purged by his father years ago when he was the prince of Askr. “The Order of the Betrayed.” Alfonse whispered slowly under his breath.

“You have been told they no longer exist, but you know in your heart that is not true. Why else for so much fuss over a little rock?” Mother Rå grimly spoke about what others were too scared to say to him. To speak of this Order would put an individual into a suspicious light, with the very likely hood of a death sentence to follow. “That Order will stop at nothing to gain control over the gates so their people may continue to pillage the worlds beyond. Now that the peace between Embla and Askr has been disrupted, the Order of the Betrayed have found new allies within those that rule Embla. Aiding them to continue their black market trade routes. They will reach out to other Zenith nations to strengthen their armies, and begin their attempt to dismantle the Order of Heroes. Removing the shield that stands in their way.”

“How do I protect the Order of Heroes?”

“You step back and learn to rule Askr, become the king you are meant to be. You are mistaken if you think that the crown will be handed to you. You will have to fight for it.” Mother Rå paused, her eyes slowly closing, as she let out a small yawn before she continued. “You must trust your summoner, and allow her to take charge of the heroes. You both need to grow in your roles, and together you will strengthen your foothold in Askr, so you may continue to serve as protection over the gates and the worlds beyond.”

“You sound more like a political advisor than a mystic.” Alfonse gave a lighthearted chuckle as he stated his observation.

Mother Rå gave him a tired smile and shook her head, slowly standing from her seat. “I am just an old woman, my child.”

“Come back to Askr with me. I would appreciate your continued advice.” Alfonse hastily stood up, offering her his arm to steady her steps. He was hopeful he could continue to learn from this woman, and he glanced down at the poorly hidden stone around her neck. It shone brightly, different than the dull stones the Order of the Betrayed used. Alfonse wanted to know more about Mother Rå, more about her life in Askr, and what she knew of his father. “I can keep you safe, and comfortable.” He boldly nodded towards the stone she had. “You would not be alone anymore, there are many like you that reside in the Order too!”

“There are many old women in the Order?! Now, there’s a scary thought!” Mother Rå jested, tilting her head slightly back in a laugh, dashing the prince's hopes. She brushed a tear away with her finger as she settled down. “No, no, I think not. As much as I would like to meet your heroes, my place is elsewhere.”

Alfonse felt a strange sadness to see Mother Rå go. She wasn’t just a well of knowledge, but he felt a link with her that he could not explain. “Will I be able to see you again?” He meekly asked.

“I would hope not.” Mother Rå blinked slowly, walking toward the black void that lingered on the wall as she warned him. “If you do see me again, it will be a sign of your shortcomings!” She snickered, stopping to give the young prince one last kind smile before slipping into the darkness. “Farewell, Alfonse, my child.” Her voice softly echoed in his mind. “Remember to trust in yourself, and to always listen to your heart.”

End.


End file.
